The Humorist
well. Why did you come to South Wales at all?"
"My mother asked me to come. She wants some new ponies, you know, and she'd heard of a ripping little pair down here."
"Go on," said I. Drusilla leaned her elbows on the table, and gazed eagerly into Georgie's open face.
"I came by the night train, "he said, "changing all the time, and I had nothing to eat but a stale bun at Craven Arms. I was hungry. I got into Neath some time in the horrid gray dawn. They thought I was a beastly bagman at the hotel and gave me a ripping breakfast. I let 'em go on thinking it on account of the grub. Why do commercial travellers want so much more to eat than other men, Martin?"
"I haven't the least idea," said I. "Go on with your story, Georgie. We're interested."
"After breakfast," he went on, "I strolled out into the town, and when I had
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